Introduction:

There are a few reasons why I want to write this, and why this came about unplanned. For the most part, I feel like I haven't written anything of value in ages, and I'm quite angry at myself about it. So when this premise popped into my head, like any dozen of others that do when I think about a series, I just threw up my hands and said "Fuck this shit, I want to write ANYTHING before I die."

So this is really just off the top of my head, lightly plotted. Will write as far as I decide, the plot will go in a general direction, but we'll see how this ends up.

Other than that, this section has a unusually large number of "crime" fics. Of course, no insult meant to any previous authors, but I have to put a heavy emphasis on the quotations. There's a good fic that tried to overturn that, but it's kinda dead at the moment. Not like this'll help, I guess, but I'm putting my two cents up. Rip and tear, rip and tear. I'm probably writing for the wrong demographic.

Sheo, I hope you're reading this, because I'm certain no one else of the usual is going to...


Person With Many Aliases Presents:

CCS: Criminal Captive Sakura

An Underworld Tale

"Card Captor Sakura" series property of CLAMP

Original Characters property of Authors Person With Many Aliases, Gaia_Cleaver


:The Spectacles Stained with Blood:

-A Better Tomorrow-


Having finished her first part time job, 17 year old Kinomoto Sakura stepped out of the convenience store, and breathed hard onto her palms to warm them up. She reached into the one of the pockets of her over sized winter coat she had changed back into, and pulled out a knit cap. Pulling the head wear down her head till it was covering her ears, she looked up at the gray and overcast afternoon sky.

Everyday that passed, autumn passed away and winter came sooner and sooner. Sakura wasn't the sort of person who would seriously say she hated anything, but when it came down to it, she definitely did not look forward to winter, every year.

The cold days and colder night she often had to stand out in, the Tokyo streets felt muggier and dirtier that time of year, the throngs people got more disgruntled, more weary, more tired, threatening to drag her down, too. Work seemed hardest on the days approaching Christmas, which she hardly celebrated, and alone most of the time.

And there was the time she caught that terrible cold, hacking and coughing and sneezing, and she thought she was honestly going to die. That was a few years back, when she didn't know better and still lived outside in the park grounds-

Sakura sighed, and shook her head. No point thinking about it.

"Things will work out, I'm sure." She whispered under her breath, unheard amongst the crowds of cosmopolitans and salary men that passed in front of her. She at least had a job, and a warm place to spend the night now. It wasn't like years ago...

Her first job was done. She had a few hours of "break time" to herself, before she went and became an under-the-table, artistic muse for Tomoyo.

Stuffing her hands into her pockets, Sakura joined the human mass of Tokyo's streets, an otherwise unnoticeable person, wearing aged and beaten clothes, and carrying just enough money in her pocket to buy lunch and a coffee a little later. Around her, the neon world of Tokyo's advertisements made her glow blue and pink at intervals.


It is said that obesity is linked to poverty. Sakura would have been inclined to agree, given that most of the time, the only thing she could afford for lunch was MacDonald's. Much of the time, it was take out as well. Sakura was well aware of what she was. She didn't need to be reminded of the fact, when seated customers, tried to eat their french fries and hamburgers while averting their eyes from her dirty clothed self, and the cashier worked on a plastic smile when she was forced to look at the hobo customer she was contract bound to serve.

Sakura could only sheepishly add that she'd have it on the go.

Sitting on the sidewalk, watching the cars and people pass her by, Sakura absentmindedly sucked away at the last of the coke in carton. Eating nothing but junk food certainly would come and bite her one day, she was sure. But she knew she would get fat if she didn't do anything about it. It was a good thing she was so much into athletics when she was still in middle school. Even after, she always made a conscious effort to keep moving, exercising, stay as trim as she could with the sort of life style she had-

"Sakura! Sakura-chan!"

A girls voice called to Sakura from the side, causing her to turn her head to the call.

Sakura immediately recognized the girl, with her thick braided pig-tails, and the high school winter uniform, and smiled, while standing up to meet her, "Chiharu-chan!"

"I haven't seen you in ages!" Chiharu exclaimed, and broke from the moving crowds. She ran up and stopped in front of Sakura. She was exaggerating slightly, of course, a month was sizable, but only eternal in the eyes of one teenage girl to another.

"Sorry, but you know how things are like for me..." Sakura excused light heartedly enough, tilting her head and shutting her eyes with mock shame.

Chiharu looked up and down Sakura, taking in the old clothes, before frowning.

"Sakura, are you still... living alone?" Chiharu seemed to have trouble admitting the issue, and settled on a euphemism.

"Well... yeah?"

"Sakura, you can't keep living like this... are you even making an effort to get help?"

Sakura had to arch an eyebrow there, "Help? Chiharu, it's not like it's a problem. I've got some jobs, now, even, and it's not like back then. I have some friends, I even have a place indoor to stay the night-"

"Sakura, that's not good enough. When I managed to find you again after you dropped out, you were practically dying in a park. Can't you at least stay at my place? Or Naoko's?"

Sakura shook her head, "I can't. I don't want to cause you trouble. I've been fine the last four years by myself, anyways-"

"It's not about being fine," Chiharu tried to appeal again, "I'm your friend, Sakura, why would you be trouble?"

Sakura was quiet for a moment, the lower half of her face dug into the raised collar of her coat, before answering, "Friend or no, we haven't talked in a long time. Would your parents happily agree to shelter a deadbeat for years?"

Chiharu almost winced at the self-deprecation, but she couldn't find the right answer, "Well... that's..."

"You never told your parents about me, Chiharu. Bringing me home would be like suddenly bringing in a stray dog." Sakura shrugged, "It's not your fault. After middle school, we started living separate lives."

"It's not the same, Sakura! We're friends-"

"Chiharu!" A boy's voice suddenly cut in, before its somewhat lanky owner, with eyes that seemed shut, wearing the male uniform of the same high school as Chiharu's, managed to push his way through the populace that was moving in the opposite direction. Meeting up with Chiharu, he gave a mock sigh.

"Trying to dump me, Chiharu-chan? I'm hurt. And after all we've been together...!"

He would have continued, but he turned to Sakura with interest, "Ah, who's this?"

Sakura gave a quick look to Chiharu, who sighed, and accented to the change in topic, "She's an old friend of mine from middle school, Kinomoto-san. Sakura, this is Yamazaki."

"I didn't know you had a boyfriend, Chiharu." Sakura prodded, teasingly.

"Well, if we had been in contact more often, you would have been up to date." Chiharu snorted, hand on her hip.

"Ah, well, if you really want the truth, we're actually engaged!" Yamazaki cheerfully corrected.

Sakura blinked, "...Heh?"

"Indeed, Kinomoto-san. We're actually heading off right now to get rings!"

"W-What!?" Sakura really choked on that fact, this time.

"Chiharu-tan's just so shy, so she likes to say our relationship is low-key. I'm sure you'll be getting an RSVP soon-aieeegh!"

Yamazaki was cut short when his rubs were harshly nudged by his "fiancée"'s elbow.

"Never mind him, Sakura," Chiharu sighed and blushed loudly, and shifted her arm to raise it up and pull him down by the neck in a one-armed headlock, "He's an idiot that likes to make up stories whenever he can."

"I... see..." Sakura nervously laughed at the surreal display of her friend manhandling her... friend that might be a boyfriend.

Yamazaki managed to splutter out in the same laid back tone, regardless of the arm around his neck, "T-Tell me about yourself, Kinomoto-san...! Looking rather bohemian...! Any reason why you're dressed down at this time of day? Classes only just ended back at our school, dunno about how it goes for others..."

Chiharu seemed to tense up at the casual inquiry, that also was coincidentally fairly personal for someone like Sakura. The bohemian girl shrugged, the practiced lie coming out as easy as it had ever been.

"Oh, it's an international school. The time table's really different compared to local schools. Well, then, Chiharu-chan, I don't want to intrude on your plans, since we just met by chance. I also have to meet a friend of my own, too. Nice to meet, Yamazaki-san. See you later, Chiharu!"

"W-Wait, Sakura...!"

Chiharu turned around awkwardly to keep looking at her old friend that skipped past her, having half-forgotten she was neck locking her boyfriend. But she was half a second too slow. Before she could call again, Kinomoto Sakura was already merging with the crowds, moving away from her.


Amidst the chaos of the Tokyo streets, there were few places of respite. One of them was a small urban playground, nestled at the corner of one street block, a flat space that one could easily fall away from the sidewalk onto a bench for a few minutes of rest. At the far corner of the lot, pointed towards the depth of the block, a swing set, some beat up spring rocking animals, and a sand box. Placed next to this was a modest stone pavilion, with smooth granite furniture. It was the sort of building that was intended for old folks or parents to sit within, and watch their children or grand children mess about.

At this late afternoon, however, this playground was host only to one "child", who was waiting for one "old folk".

Sakura sat on one of the squat stone stools planted within the pavilion, while she braced her elbows on the edge of a table made of polished polished rock, her hands raised and clasped around a covered cup of coffee.

When he arrived, Sakura just met him with a pout.

"You're late, Clow."

From behind those pince-nez glasses, Alister Clow Reed smiled with his whole face disarmingly.

"My apologies, Sakura. My work today was unexpectedly... complicated. Did I make you wait long?"

Sakura tried to frown, but she couldn't keep it up at her unusual choice of friend's smile enchante. So she grinned, giggled, and waved it off.

"It's alright. You came, that's enough. What did you get held up with?"

Clow (When Sakura heard his first name, something so sort-of-plain like Alister, she decided to stick with calling him by his middle name, which just seemed to make more sense, in its own illogical way) smoothed out his dark overcoat as he sat on a stool across the table, opposite Sakura, while setting a brown suitcase atop the table. Opening it up with two deft clicks, he hummed his answer nonchalantly.

"Oh... it's complicated to explain right away. I'll tell you in a bit, but I presume you're up to our usual game?"

"Of course. It's why I'm here." Sakura answered, watching Clow remove a smaller case from within the suitcase. From it spilled the river laden battlefield and pieces for Chinese Chess.

It was hard to figure out how this friendship started. For Sakura it was pretty much an act of God that such a thing came about. Their was a gap between Clow and her in... well, pretty much everything. Age not withstanding, Sakura could see just as much that Clow belonged to some ridiculous corporate world, where men of the highest caliber made millions of dollars, drink tiny espressos from cups made of porcelain imported from Bolivia or somewhere, eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner, at five star restaurants, have a different girlfriend every other week, each of them a super model or idol or celebrity, and generally be friends with everybody important. Maybe even play Chinese Chess with them.

Not some homeless waif, under a pavilion in some playground in the heart of Tokyo, outside in the cold.

But they so happened to meet, resting their feet on the benches, some time that seemed long ago, in the foggy stretches of past memory, still disarmingly greeting her as if she were anybody else in the street, and then asked if she'd like to pass the time playing a game of Chinese Chess.

Of course, the first time, she lost miserably, after spending a half hour with Clow teaching her the rules of engagement. But Clow seemed entertained enough for the day, and he said to meet him again, here, tomorrow, for that day was a "curious and enlightening experience" for him.

Sakura humored him, and before she knew it, she began talking with Clow about everything. Whether, news, the price of vending machines, the inanity of idol singers, the brightness of LED screens, what was up with Baseball...

She found a strange friendship, a new block in her daily schedule, and sometimes it still baffled her, when she got back to thinking about how the whole thing started.

Of course, aside from what they brought to the table, Sakura knew as much of Clow as what she saw. She was only guessing she was some corporate executive or some other, a job invented by her imagination. They never talked about their personal lives. She hoped Clow knew as littler of her as she did of him. Then again, what was there to say about a 17-year-old bum with no great calling in life, or future.

Some way into the game, where Sakura's horseman was leaping across to attack Clow's left flank, pressuring him away from her pawns, Clow looked up at the gray sky.

"Autumn is nearly over..."

"I noticed. It gets colder every day." Sakura sighed.

"It's strange, how fast things change before you know they happen."

Sakura was hoping he wasn't making some sly comeback, verbally and tactically.

"Are you thinking of something, Clow?"

"Sort of." He gave one of those smiles again, "I think of human life, mainly. Have you seen a forest, Sakura? I don't mean those sparse, artificially positioned trees you see in the parks. Have you ever seen a forest that's so full and complete, it seems everything is just a tree?"

Sakura thought for a second. She remembered, when she was younger, before she moved to Tokyo, before Middle School, little vestiges of living in the countryside, where there was lots of trees.

"I might have, in the past."

"I suppose, so long as you have a reference. I was just thinking about how human lives and leaves are so similar. In the autumn, all the leaves fall. Then they're buried in snow. In spring, before you even realize it, in your sleep, it seems like all the leaves have reappeared, but they're not the same leaves. They're just new ones that look the same as the ones one treads beneath their feet..."

Clow rested his head on his hand, and looked to the side, out to the streets.

"...Sometimes, I feel like it's the same way with human lives. By the time your gone, people have already moved on, and they forgot you were already around, since by then you've already been replaced."

"That's a terrible way to look at things, Clow." Sakura frowned.

Her turned back, "Is that so?"

"Even if people disappear, I'd still try to remember them as best I can."

"I'm sure you'd forget, eventually."

"Well, even if I forget some things, I still remember my mother. Even if you go, I'd still remember you."

"I'm touched, Sakura. I remember, when we first met, you were flabbergasted and wondering if my existence was one big joke or dream."

"Well, I can't forget you, now. You... have had a memorable impact on my life, you know."

"I'm glad to know that, Sakura."

Again with that smile. Sometimes it was hard if he was smiling because he was happy, or because everything he took in was just a big joke only he knew the punchline to.

"Anyways! You should stop thinking about such depressing things, Clow, and play the game. You'll just live shorter, thinking like that, it's bad for your health."

"Very well, Sakura, I shall endeavor to live my life to the fullest, work out, sleep and rise early, eat healthy food, donate to charity, and beat you soundly like I usually do."

With that, he had a cannon on his side wipe out a unit that was a vital lynch pin to a trap Sakura was laying. She groaned loudly. There was no point hiding her feelings from the master.

They played for a bit longer, but Clow's fewer units were starting to soundly mop Sakura's army up.

At the intersection, a large van adorned with speakers and banners drove slowly through, prerecorded lines being regurgitated every five seconds.

"Hello, Ladies and Gentlemen. The winter Diet elections are coming up. Have you cast your vote yet? If not, please make the most of your valuable vote, and vote for the United Nations Party. Thank you for listening... Hello, Ladies and Gentlemen..."

"Hmm... have you ever considered voting, Sakura?"

Sakura shrugged, "I don't think it matters. I don't know much about politics, but I heard that that group has always been the one in charge of Japan, even before I was born. Besides, I don't even know if I can vote. I don't even know if I'm a Japanese Citizen, Clow. I don't even have a wallet, anyways."

"I see. Life free of votes sounds very relaxing. Though, to be precise, you should be saying "The UN Party has the most seats in the Diet", though I suppose you're correct in saying they're in charge."

"Hm."

"Either way, Sakura, do you believe your single action means so little?"

Sakura scrunched up her face, thinking if there was a better answer than what she gave already, "Well... like I said... I can't really do much, anyways. I'm just one girl, trying to make ends meet."

"Hm. I disagree with you there, Sakura. "Some are born great others achieve greatness and some have greatness thrust upon them"."

"Uh..."

"An over quoted line from Shakespeare's Twelfth Night. Most people read it straight, but actually, it was intended as a parody, when a low-born servant believed he was just a romance away from a promotion in social status. While the parallels between Malvolio's condition and yours-"

"Ah ha." Sakura dryly laughed.

"-are coincidentally similar, I'd like to say that that the line would ring truer for you than him. You're a very shrewd girl, Sakura. It's why your better company than other people I've met. I'm very sure you would survive a situation where "Greatness" is thrust upon you."

Sakura brow beat her older friend, "I'm sorry... but the compliment was rather sudden..."

Clow shrugged, "Actually, Sakura, I want to talk to you about this complicated business I mentioned earlier."

All she could offer was a blank blink, given she had nearly forgotten about it.

Clow was silent for a moment, too, trying to gather himself, though all he could give out was sigh.

"Sakura, we've been friends for a while now, but we've both been polite enough not to pry into each other's business. But today, I have to ask you to forgive me, for I am going to be terribly selfish, and there might not be anything you can do about it..."

"...Clow?"

Sakura's brows clenched. The weary tone the bespectacled man took filled her with worry.

"Sakura, I suspect that today may be the last day I live."

"...What?"

"My... complicated business... I have to take responsibility for something, no matter what. When that happens, I don't know if I'll even make it to see the morning tomorrow."

Sakura frowned, confused, "C-Clow, what are you talking about?"

"Sakura, you're a very close friend of mine, and I don't know how many other people know it. Before anything happens to me, I need to at least make sure you'll be safe."

"What...? Safe? Clow, what have you been doing...?"

"Well... legal things, mainly, but what I'm going to do later may cause some trouble for some people. When that happens, I'm sure people inevitably will start looking for you. When they find you, and you don't have leverage... well, that's why I need to give you something to insure your safety."

Sakura wasn't sure if she was upset or confused more. She stood up, and slammed her palms onto the table, shaking the game in progress, "Safety...!? Clow, if whatever you're going to do is going to drag me into it-"

"I'm sorry, Sakura, but like I say, it's something I have to be selfish about, this time. It may be bigger than both of us. But I need to make sure you can protect yourself."

Clow opened up his briefcase again, the side swinging upward towards her, and blocking her view. For a second, Sakura's slightly outlandish imagination imagined he would pull a gun or a sword from within the cavity.

But the truth came stranger than her fiction.

"What the...?"

Clow slid a card towards her. Long and rectangular, it's height outstretched its width by quite a bit. Embossed and inked on its surface, in earthen brown tones that suggested great age, was a tarot like image, subtle and distinct. Depicted within, a sleeping woman, with what seemed like wings on her head, clutched protectively onto a heart, which was likewise winged.

Sakura read the short title engraved at the bottom of the card.

"LIII – The Hope"

"What is this?"

"Think of it as a magic charm from me to you. I'm a bit of an artist in my spare time. But it comes with a trade off."

"What?"

"So long as you have that, everybody will come looking for it."

"Who's 'everybody'?" Sakura couldn't help but frown at that.

"To be honest, I wouldn't be surprised if I mean everybody in Tokyo."

"..."

"But, so long as you find a place to hide it, and tell no one, I promise that you'll survive the Greatness thrust upon you. But remember, you must keep this card safe, and don't let it be destroyed."

Sakura stared at the slip in front of her, before shaking her head.

"Clow, I don't understand..."

Clow smiled, "I suppose it won't make much sense now. So how about a bet. Keep this card with you tonight, and come back here, tomorrow as always, and we'll see what happens. If you're right, then nothing will happen. If I'm right, I'll have to ask you to protect that card."

Sakura looked down at the Hope card one more time, before sighing and holding her head, suddenly tired.

"Alright..."

"Thank you Sakura, for putting up with me. For my part, I promise I'll do whatever I can to meet you tomorrow. For now, I think we've talked long enough, you look tired."

Clow started packing away the Chinese Chess game. Sakura looked up with some surprise, though she wasn't sure why.

"Clow...?"

"Well, if I'm going to meet you tomorrow, we have to keep playing Chinese Chess. Just a little something to remind myself."

Sakura stood to look at Clow, who finished packing and closing his briefcase. Clow Reed nodded.

"Well, then. Sorry for suddenly bringing this up... let's just see what tomorrow morning brings us, then. Goodbye, Sakura. I hope you sleep well."

With that, Clow Reed stepped off the pavilion, walked out of playground, and walked along the sidewalk till he was out of sight.

Sakura continued to stand there for a few moments more, with the card held between her fingers.


It was 10 at night, when Sakura went back to turn in. Tokyo remained bright as ever, between all the LED lighting, though the sky above her was pitch black, with nary a star in sight due to the light pollution.

There was a strong night life going on here, with the same number of people on the streets around Sakura, if not more. Students bustling around, having finished homework, or continuing to escape it, salarymen who finished their grueling shifts and were blowing their paychecks on booze and hostess clubs, yuppies who wanted to have their martinis shaken, no stirred, at the latest and hottest club, and a hundred other stories for explaining why the night was young to them, it wasn't even twelve.

Sakura didn't want anything to do with it, however. After Clow left, after she left Tomoyo's place, all she could do was shuffle an hour away, mind completely caught up with what the older man had said, while the card continued to be hidden away in one of her coat pockets.

In the end, Sakura felt she couldn't do anything more than just sleep and end the day any way she could.

That's why, turning a corner, she found a small basement entrance in the side of fairly well lit alleyway. At the foot of this door, was a small sign in blinking neon, that announced she was about to enter the net cafe called "CHT! CHT! CHT!"

Entering put Sakura in a small hallway, door on the other end, with a booth and counter cut into the wall, where an aged man sat, wearing a plain T-shirt with no regard for keeping up appearances. Next to the booth, small square doors of lockers were planted into the wall, starting at a person's knee, and rising above their head, and took up all the wall space till it reached the far door.

"Evening, Watari-san."

"Good evening, Kinomoto."

"Is my stuff still in the locker?"

"You still got the key, right? It's not like I would throw out your stuff since you're a regular."

"Just checking. It's not like this place is my home, after all." Sakura answered simply, while pulling out several yen worth of bills and dropping them on a tray, while signing her name in. Which was the truth for the most part. While Sakura and Watari were familiar with each other, it was only because Sakura had been staying the night here for more than a year. At a professional level, CHT! CHT! CHT! had become a motel for Sakura. She provided a constant customer, and Watari, knowing she'd be back, was willing to overlook some standard rules. Normal customers were expected to turn in their backpacks at the wall of lockers, and retrieve them as soon as they left, but for Sakura, he let her leave in the morning with the key to "her" locker that hid her small duffel bag of personal possessions, knowing she'd be back at night.

"The shower's free, not too many people tonight. Your terminal number's 41."

"Thanks for letting me know. Good night, Watari-san." Sakura called behind her back as she started walking to the door of the internet cafe proper, while waving behind her head casually.

"Night, Kinomoto."

A shower later, and Sakura threw herself onto a small sofa that took up half of a miniscule cubicle, and pulled the curtain shut over the access. A small desk lamp had been been attached to the wall, and was pointed downward, leaving the cubicle, or "terminal" half lit, yet also covering the room with a shadow that made Sakura's makeshift abode a little more homey for the while it would last. Across the sofa, two shelves were built into the wall, one at stomach level to comfortably rest both a desktop computer, and a large television set next to it. The shelf above was lined with manga and movie DVDs. For all these, Sakura was too tired to even pay them any attention.

All she did was rub a towel across her damp, short brown hair, and wipe the grime out of her jade eyes. Indoors, where it was warm, she had shucked off her large coat, leaving her in a black, loose T-shirt, while she still kept wearing the same jeans she always had, (till it wore itself to pieces, anyways), while her bare feet flexed and relaxed on the carpeted floor, regardless of how clean it was.

Towel still draped over the top of her head, and lapping down her shoulders like some nun's habit, Sakura reached into her cast away coat to pull free the magic charm Clow Reed gave her. Holding it on one hand, she turned it a few times, before staring at the image of the girl holding that heart with wings.

"Hope" is the thing with feathers, Sakura supposed. But whatever she was supposed to do with such a thing as this card.

Tired, Sakura slowly fell onto her side, and lay on the sofa, staring at the card.

It's only a simple bet, in the end, Sakura hoped. She would hold it for Clow for the night, and tomorrow, she'd give it back and they'd play Chinese Chess as they always did.

That was what Sakura went to sleep, thinking.


Three in the morning was realm of very few waking people. Either people working overtime, or the graveyard shift, drunks who had lost any concept of time in their quest for the next open bar, delinquents who thought that staying up late was some sort of profound method of household rebellion, and all sorts of other undesirables. The witching hours for the scum and the villainous.

Li Xiaolang had to grudgingly admit he was probably a bit of an undesirable himself, in many respects, so he was more or less welcome to being awake at this time of the morning, too. But then Eriol (Correction, Hiiragizawa-oyabun, with much sarcasm) would laugh and say he was probably over thinking things.

Xiaolang fixed the scarf to keep it tight against his neck and mouth, trying to keep the cold out. Even more than the afternoon, the dead of the night was absolutely abominable. The dark blazer he was wearing over his equally dark dress shirt might have helped if there was wind, but for the most part, low temperatures were an invisible foe, trying to bring him down.

He shook his head fiercely, trying to clear his mind of his incessant whining.

Keep it together, Xiaolang. You have more dignity than that. You're here for a reason...!

Of course, the question is whether the person he was looking for would appear or not. While he was tipped off that the target was somewhere in this district, a seedier dive made of narrow passages and alleys, rimmed with cheap bars, knowing the general location only put him as far as wandering blindly, looking for someone who looked similar to...

He stopped by the dark entrance to an alleyway. Turning his head slowly to the darkness, he glared at it. Some people would have called what Xiaolang had, a 6th sense of sorts. He wouldn't know much about it, but his senses were honed, and his instincts had been right more than once.

Something important was in that darkness... but it could also be dangerous.

Xiaolang loosened his blazer a bit more, making sure there was a reasonable gap that showed off his shirt underneath. With that, he walked into the depths that were barely lit. Some distance in, he heard a troubled groan. Xiaolang walked a little faster at the sound, and his eyes started making out a body sitting, legs splayed across the ground, back resting awkwardly against the wall, hand clutching a stomach.

Xiaolang broke into a run, crossing the remaining distance in a few seconds, before kneeling down by the man. He couldn't make out much, beyond the gleam of sweat on his brow, and the glare of his pince nez glasses from the light at the entrance of the alley. Xiaolang's hand touched the ground, felt a puddle of something warm and sticky merging with his fingertips, and then he noticed the man's stomach turning rapidly darker as fluid seeped out.

Xiaolang quickly reached into one his pockets and fished out a photograph, and found the picture matching the man.

Dying at his feet was Alister Clow Reed.

Xiaolang wasted no time, and grabbed the man by a shoulder, giving him a firm shake.

"Clow Reed. Clow Reed, can you hear me...!?" He hissed.

Clow woke a little from his stupor, and turned his head towards him, "A-Ah... hello..."

"Where is it...?"

"Ah... I see... you're here to take it... unfortunately, you're too late..."

"What!?"

"Another gentleman passed by, an American... and well, he's already left with it..."

"Damn it...!"

Xiaolang was tempted for an instant to just leave the man there, and rush off after whoever had beat him to the punch. But the greater part of him was too good for that.

"I'll call an ambulance for you..."

Xiaolang reached for the cellphone in his pocket, but Clow's bloody hand raised, gesturing to halt.

"No... no... I've... already lost too much blood by the time... I got here... it's too late for me... you should... just do what you're here to do... Looks like I this is how I'll spend my last morning... heh... sorry, Sakura... but I tried my best..."

Whatever Clow was babbling about in his death, Xiaolang wasn't paying attention anymore, now being given express instruction by the man himself to leave him alone. Rising as fast as he could, the Chinese man leaped over the puddle of blood and rushed deeper into the maze of alleys, feet pounding the ground, chasing after whoever it was he was chasing.

He doesn't know I'm chasing him. He'll take the most straightforward route away and out of here... just follow what you see first!

The alleyways seemed to give simple directions. Garbage heaps blocked off certain routes, puddles of water elsewhere showed where someone stepped through. Eventually Xiaolang slowed down to a halt, stopping by a sharp corner that turned out of his view. Around the corner, the sounds of easy foot falls reached his ears. He hadn't heard his coming. With a deep breath, Xiaolang slowly crept around the corner, making sure his steps were light and unheard.

He found himself looking at the back of a man taller than he was, wearing a black coat, and a black wide brimmed hat atop his head. He walked casually and slowly, assuming he was alone. In his left hand, a briefcase was being rocked and forth gently, bumping against the man's leg.

Xiaolang continued to follow him as quietly as he could. The solution seemed simple. Before he made it back to the main street, approach him quickly and quietly, before striking him in the back of the head. While he was collapsed, get the brief case and-

"You know, I actually did hear you coming my way while I was leaving. I could hear your feet echoing all the way from here."

Xiaolang cursed and came to a halt at the same moment the man did, back still turned to him. They were still a few yards apart.

"I was hoping you were just running through here, but the moment you slowed down, I knew you were trying to come up to me unheard. So, what is it you want from me. Spare change? My autograph? Heh."

The man turned around, and Xiaolang saw he certainly did have the facial features of an American. The hat made it impossible to see his eyes, but Xiaolang could still make out the easy sneer on the man's mouth, while he held his free hand on his hip.

And he decided he already disliked this man, and all he was worth was a strong glare from his side.

"That man back there. Did you kill him?"

"Heh, judging by the look on your face, it seems like any answer I'd give would be the wrong one. Maybe I shot him, maybe I gave him CPR. But you don't really care about that guy, do you? I'm guessing you're after this?"

The coated man raised the briefcase he held.

"Give it to me."

"Well you can't have it," The black coat man chuckled, "And if you're thinking of mugging me, I'd ask you to reconsider and just go fuck off back home and study for your entrance exams or whatever the fuck you Japanese do."

"It's not a request."

"Yeah, well my answer's not a suggestion, either."

That was when Xiaolang reached inside his blazer and grabbed the handle. From around his back, he pulled free a machete that had been holstered behind his back. The blade gleamed dully in the weak alley light.

"You're going to leave this alley with only one hand, at this rate." Xiaolang growled.

That only caused the American to chortle, trying to fight himself from breaking down into uncontrollable laughter.

As Xiaolang walked forward, the coated man wheezed his response.

"Oh shit, the gook made a threatening statement and he's closing in on me with a shank. No one's here to see what's going to happen, how the hell am I going to defend myself-!"

The hand on the man's hip slipped back, and suddenly he pulled out an MP5K that he had been wearing on a strap between the inside of his coat and his side. The safety came off, and the muzzle bore down on the Chinese man's chest.

Xiaolang felt his heart stop for a second, before it heaved forward at his back pedaling, which turned into a series of lunging back flips that quickly carried him in retreat, while the racket of gunfire and bullets cracking across the pavement followed him till he rolled away and back around the corner, out of view.

"Little assfuck." The American snorted to himself, while he retreated backwards, firing the SMG with one hand in short bursts, keeping Xiaolang trapped behind the turn, while bullets ate away brick work and concrete. At a suitable distance, the American turned around and started running.

"Shit!" Xiaolang swore to himself, before jumping out of his cover, and began chasing after the gunman.

For the next five minutes, began a game where Xiaolang chased the other man for so long, before he suddenly turned around and opened fire again, with the former managing to duck behind dumpsters or doorways, and grit his teeth with impatience while gunfire sparked around him. When the man stopped firing, the chase would go on for the next few seconds.

Xiaolang finally got his break though, by the third time his opponent swirled about to cover his tracks with 9mm rounds. He was hidden behind a pile of discarded trash made out of broken microwaves, bicycles and what else, when the American fired his gun for all of two seconds before the gunfire was cut short.

The American looked at his empty MP5 with disdain, "I should have really brought the drum mag..."

Looking past his gun, he saw Xiaolang spin out of cover to rush towards him. Having no free hand to reload his SMG, the American simply let his gun fall back under his coat, and turned around to run as fast as he could, though his movements were still hampered by the package he was carrying. But with this protracted escape sequence, the two of them were only meters away from an exit into a main street, and they could both see the shining lights of pubs and street lamps.

With a burst of speed, Xiaolang leaped forward and tackled the American full on in the back, launching them both into the street. As the larger man coughed while slamming his chest onto the ground, his hand slipped on the briefcase, sending it clattering across the ground. Xiaolang scrambled to stand and run to the dropped case, but his opponent had already twisted around onto his back and quickly reached up with one hand, and grabbed a large fistful of the Chinese man's collar, keeping him in place.

Xiaolang snarled and stared death down on the American, while raising his machete high to bring it down on the face of the man he was stuck straddling. Before it even reached halfway, the American had caught the armed hand by the wrist, trapping it above his head. Xiaolang reciprocated by wrapping his other hand around the man's neck, squeezing as hard as he could on his windpipe.

The American spluttered and choked, but kept his arrogant grin. Around them, the few bums or after hour drunkards who were seeing this exchange backed away from the man struggling with another man over the very big knife, before turning tail and running at the violence, not wanting to have anything to do with it.

Xiaolang kept his furious gaze on the man, "What's so funny...!?"

The American choked another laugh, "You're a fucking idiot."

"What was that?"

"I said you're a fucking retard. I bet you didn't even wonder why I put suppressor on my gun..."

"What difference does that make!?" Xiaolang growled, not up for playing games, when he should be cutting the man's head open like a melon.

"A lot. I just woke up half of Tokyo with the sound of gunfire. You know what people do when they hear guns blazing...?"

Xiaolang realized what the American was getting at, just as the sound of sirens echoed in the distance.

"...They call the cops."

A police car swung into view at the end of the street, headlights shining, sirens blaring, the works. It drove towards the pair sitting in the middle of the road.

"Oh, whaddya gonna do now, Ninja boy? You're the one holding a sword to an unarmed man's neck. The fuzz are definately gonna chase the armed man before the suspicious man. How much longer do you think you can hold my neck?"

Xiaolang ground his teeth, realizing he was running out of options, trapped like this. The American played the most ostentatious card, and now had outwitted him with it.

Before Xiaolang could devise any further, the shoes of the American had worked their way around Xiaolang and slammed into his chest, throwing him off and onto his back, while the police car got even closer. The American rubbed his neck, before scrambling over to grab the briefcase.

"Enjoy your bail, you piece of shit..."

Xiaolang swore under his breath as he watched the man disappear into another alley, before jumping to his feet just as the patrol car arrived. The two police officers, in their drab uniforms, jumped out, pointing their fingers at him.

"Hey you! Drop your weapon!"

Xiaolang opted to simply turn around and run back into the alley he had launched himself and that damn foreigner out of.

"Stop! Stop damn it!"

The cops were too slow, though, unsuited to catch the man with the machete as he disappeared into the darkness.

Xiaolang swore he was going to find that man again, and the next time, he'd make sure the foreigner would be picking his teeth out of the floor.


"Kinomoto. Kinomoto, wake up already, it's seven. The casual customers are going to be here in an hour or two, I need to clean up."

Sakura grumbled half-heartedly, registering Watari's voice, before sitting up, dazed. Hair pointed in directions lopsidedly about her head. Looking around blearily, she looked at the closed curtain of her booth.

"Can you give me a few minutes to brush my teeth and check the news, at least?" She mumbled.

"Yeah, sure, just be sure to be out of here, soon." Watari's voice answered from the other side, followed by the sound of the internet cafe owner walking off.

Sakura grumbled a little, before her eyes turned to the desktop computer. Switching it on, she exited the booth, holding a tube of toothpaste and a tooth brush and getting her other business done while the computer wasted a few minutes booting up. When she returned, she was lazily rubbing the brush over her teeth. With her free hand, she called the Internet browser up, and typing in the address for the most popular news site, pecking about with her index finger.

Local weather, more of the same, restaurant promotions, troubles in countries overseas, election speeches, murder-

Sakura froze. She was trapped staring at the headline that appeared while scrolling down.

Murder – Police Officers find body of businessman Clow Reed 3:40 AM this morning.

And staring at this fact come true, her brain could only come to one conclusion.

...What?

Sakura continued, eyes wide and staring at the hyper linked sentence until it was burned into her, like the faint sensation of the toothpaste burning in her mouth.


Tokyo was a city that met the water in the form of a large bay. Naturally, with such a useful and calm body of water, it was home to a series of industrial docks, used for loading and off loading and the docking of everything from private yachts to giant cargo trawlers.

Of the many companies that went into shipping, one to know was called Queens Shipping. Its headquarters, warehouses, and docks were located on an artificial peninsula that jutted out into the waters, built entirely out of reclaimed dirt and concrete. It was a moderate import/export business, a Japanese branch of a larger shipping company worldwide, with the mother company based in London, England. This fact was just as much confirmed with the title of the company as well as the curious, but generally boring fact than a British man was the acting chairman of the company. His secretary was Swiss, too, but that's an aside.

Queens Shipping stored and procured a large number of products for a number of businesses for transit worldwide, from thing as mundane Pocky, to things as expensive as international orders for sports cars.

There were also the illegal things.

Indeed, Queens Shipping, while it had a legitimate business, had a much stronger influence in the criminal underworld as a middle man and import/export for contacts inside and outside of Japan.

Firearms from the United States, China, and Russia, Drugs to South East Asia, stolen cars back and forth between Europe...

And the hosting of mercenaries and cutthroats from around the world.

This was why the American had just exited a taxi in front of the main office of Queens Shipping. Slamming the door shut behind him, he listened to the vehicle drive off, and out of the main gate. Briefcase in one hand, and hat in the other, he looked up the front of the squat, wide building, sunlight revealing his short brown hair that was slicked back a little, to give way for his dull, brown eyes to look about.

He shrugged, before fixing his hat on, and headed on through the sliding doors.

An unmolested elevator ride up, and he was on the quiet top floor. Down the hallways, the coated man eventually made his way into a private lobby, punctuated with tasteless posters set behind glass windows, a few cushy gray sofas, and a secretary who was sitting behind a desk, typing reports on her laptop computer that had multiple accessories hooked up onto the USB ports. Like the vaunted British chairman, she was also a foreigner, with blonde-orange hair neatly cut short and went around from one ear to another. Looking up from her work, the American was stared coolly with her piercing blue eyes.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Colt. Do you have an appointment?"

"Do I look like a person with an appointment, just go tell him it's me and I got it, already." Colt deadpanned.

The secretary wordlessly stood up, smoothed out her office dress, and passed through a clear of frosted glass double doors.

Colt grumbled and rubbed his neck. Twisting his head from one side to another, he elicited a few audible cracks from the abused area.

"Motherfucking ninja gook. I'm going to kill that bastard if I see him again..."

The secretary appeared again, before bowing slightly, "Mr. Lime will see you now."

She held open one of the glass doors, admitting Colt as he walked on through. The office had an entire wall made up only of glass for a panoramic view of the industrial bay and docks. Here and there, a potted plant was placed in a corner to liven up the squarish room. Sofas took up one half of the office, circled around a black coffee table. Perched before a wall lined with reports tacked onto a cork board, was a large oak desk, with a smallish man behind it.

"Yo, Lime."

"Afternoon, Colt. I hear you've already obtained it." Aloysius Lime spoke, not once looking up from the paperwork he was penning by hand. The Englishman wore a white dress shirt. He had a wild frock of blonde hair that seemed to take that shape naturally. A pair of rimless rectangular glasses took their place, shielding his green eyes.

Colt held up the battered briefcase, smirking, "So, about my bonus..."

"You'll have your bonus once I confirm we have the commissioned object." Lime retorted, scribbling away. "But there's no rush."

The secretary spoke up, "Would you like anything, Mr. Colt?"

"Well, might as well help myself to a free beer while I'm here."

"Would you like something local, or do you prefer something imported?"

"Don't really matter. I'm just kinda thirsty."

"Very well, I'll be back shortly with your beverage."

She walked out, and Colt whistled, and sat down in a minuscule sofa along one side of the office, setting the briefcase down on the table.

"I'll say, Geneva's pretty fucking useful for a secretary. Doesn't even blink at beer. Nothing like those pissy teenage interns back home. Is there anything she doesn't she do?"

"Mostly whatever I don't care for doing myself."

"Hm. Place seems emptier today."

"I've been redirecting the illegal shipments to affiliates elsewhere, as well as shipping away what I have already since I subcontracted you and the others for this job. It's a rather important task, so I prefer not to have my efforts dashed because some patrolman finds one of my containers is full of Methamphetamines."

"Heh, careful, aren't you? Well, don't matter. I'm sure you can get back to your wholesome, illegal way of life today, and get me my bonus and get me back home. Heh, I can see the look on Yasha and Ken's faces, beaten to the punch."

Geneva returned with a small tray, carrying a bottle of Asahi, and a glass. As she popped the bottle and expertly poured the beer into a glass, Lime waved Colt over.

"And you're confident, as always, Colt. Well, then, let's see it. Ms. Bradley?"

Colt sipped away, while Geneva took up the briefcase and carried it over to Lime, and turned it towards him, latches facing him. Opening the briefcase, he rummaged about its contents. He idly tossed away a few folders of files, and a plastic case-

"The fuck is that?"

Lime popped the lid of the smaller container, before answering simply, "Chinese Chess."

"Heh, of all the things he took with him to the grave."

"Yes, I saw the news. I wondered if you had anything to do with that."

"Like it has anything to do with this."

"No, I suppose not."

Lime reached into the briefcase, and then pulled out an ornately designed leather bound volume, on one side simply titled, "The Clow".

"The target named it after himself. Ah, the joys of Narcissism." Lime dryly noted.

"See, the book right there. I got it first, so..." Colt continued to prod.

Lime snapped open the latch that held the book closed.

"Oh come on- Huh?"

Colt did not expect his employer to pull tarot cards out of the book.

"It was on a need to know basis. The book is just a concealed carrying case. These cards are the objective." Lime explained, lightly waving the stack of paper at Colt.

"Fancy piece of shit. Bet it'd go down expensive for an art collector."

"Depends on the sort of art collector to be spoken of. Obviously a fan of Alphonese Mucha would appreciate this much more than one of Dali... One, two, three..."

Lime counted the cards. By the end, he froze, and a glimmer of displeasure flashed across his eyes.

Colt's previous cheerful veneer started to deflate, "Don't tell me..."

"It appears someone has already opened Pandora's Box before we have. There is only fifty two cards here. My contractor's intel informed me there was to be fifty three."

"Maybe he was fucking with you."

"I don't believe so," Lime answered, leaning back resting a cheek on a hand, "He seemed quite honest."

"So, what, then? One card missing. Just sell the rest of it to him."

"This job doesn't work like that. The objective was specifically for all 53 cards. We either deliver the full set, or we don't, and I won't accept half-hearted accomplishments. Tell me, Colt, this is Clow Reed's briefcase."

"It is." Colt frowned.

"The same as it was when you collected it?"

"Hey, I took the fucking thing out of his dying hands, and slept on the fucking thing all night, and I didn't even open the thing."

"Did you meet anyone else when you acquired this briefcase?"

"I was the first one there, and I kept hold of it the whole time."

"Who else was there, then."

"Some asshole with a sword, flipping around like a fucking ninja, but I scared him off."

"I hope it wasn't you and Ken fighting in the dark without knowing each other."

"Fuck you, we at least recognize each other. It was some fucking Japanese guy with a machete."

"I see. Looks like we do have serious competition over these cards then."

"So what now? All our efforts fucking up in smoke?"

Lime tsked, while reaching downwards and pulling a wooden case from one of the drawers of his desk. From it, he pulled out a pipe. Pushing dried tobacco leaves in, he continued to talk.

"We at least have the majority of the cards, and a starting point. Clow Reed separated one of the cards before you met him earlier today, and someone else is looking for it. Intriguing. I suppose it's time to start tapping the grapevines for clues."

"Tch, more work for us, then." Colt grumbled, before swallowing the last of his beer, and stood up.

"I'll give you half of the bonus. You gave me this much, at least."

"Dead asshole making a fool of me... Card better not be crammed up Godzilla's asshole or something..."

"I suppose you'll be returning to your place?"

"Of course." Colt shot back, "Tell me anything first. I'm not gonna give ground to those other two losers you hired."

"Very well. Try not to destroy Tokyo in a fit of rage, Colt."

The American was already stomping off, while Lime smirked lightly and raised his pipe to Geneva.

"How do I put it, Mr. Lime? Your friend is... a cowboy. Can he be trusted to do his job?" She asked politely, while striking a match and lowering the flame to set Lime's pipe alight.

"His method is unorthodox, but that's why he's been effective so far. This job may be a more precise than he's used to, but adapting is his job, not mine."

Lime breathed out smoke, before holding a card and lifting it up to look at it, one called The Dream.

"If only a little butterfly could whisper to me where The Hope is..." Lime wondered, before shrugging, "Well then, after we finish getting rid of the Methamphetamine, schedule an appointment with Ms. Ichihara, I'm sure she'll already know something by now."

"Very good, Mr. Lime." Geneva Bradley nodded, before closing the empty briefcase, and sliding it off the desk and into her hands, "I shall dispose of this, too, then."

As Geneva walked off, she heard Lime speak up again.

"Geneva?"

"Yes, Mr. Lime?"

The Englishman held up the small plastic case in one hand, "Do you know how to play Chinese Chess?"

"I would be open to learning, sir."

"Good, it would be a waste to throw it away. Games are to be played, after all."

"Yes, sir."


The Spectacles Stained with Blood: A Better Tomorrow


Next Feature:

Nobody's Culture Shock at Becoming Somebody: Tattooed Life